


Don't Starve Prompts

by DraftsmanFive



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 04:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13628742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraftsmanFive/pseuds/DraftsmanFive
Summary: Wilson and Willow make an arrangement after an experiment goes awry.





	Don't Starve Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from my Tumblr Post,  
> Inspired by @destinypath‘s fanfic and @itstheblob‘s shipping challenge.
> 
> Will do more similar fics in the future. If people request for it, I may make them sooner.

Wilson slouched before the sizable campfire while sharpening a piece of charcoal with a razor, seemingly entranced by the controlled blaze that was raging before him– of course, his present fixation on the flame was but one of the many attributes in which he and another particular survivor differed. In actuality, he was biding his time waiting for his scientific instruments to complete their measurements so that he could record his data on the various sheets that he haphazardly scattered around the pit.

It was disheartening to him, to think that despite his exposure to forbidden knowledge there was still so much about the Constant that he did not yet understand, including the fellow survivors he was now supposedly responsible for guiding towards freedom; and if there were any sort of recompense to the situation, it’d be the fact that he could at least learn more about the new world he found himself in through science and exploitation. But even then, many of the rules and inhabitants of the world remained a mystery, and there was no creature more elusive to him than his closest acquaintance, Willow.

As flapper as he was dapper, Willow was the first person Wilson encountered in the Constant after having fell out of society many years ago– Maxwell and the various other demons didn’t count. And though they had only been familiar with each other for no longer than a few days – hardly enough time to know a person even under such circumstances – there was still something about Willow he didn’t quite understand: her fascination with fire.

It was more of an obsession, really, as that very characteristic seemed to define her personality and motivate every single one of her actions for worse as opposed to better. By default, she appeared to be a cool, considerate, and composed individual, but whenever there was so much a spark around her vicinity she would suddenly and inexplicably become compassionately emotional, self-driven, and potentially lethal, if Wilson were to be completely honest. He had his own reasons to suspect the latter claim– but his thoughts were swiftly interrupted when he heard the indistinguishable sound of heels clicking against the rocky floor that was the center of the group’s camp.

He turned around and, lo-and-behold, there was the Firestarter herself. She stopped a few paces short of him and the two became entranced in an awkward staring contest until she finally broke the silence.

“It’s Higgsbury, right? If you aren’t busy, do you mind if I sit next to you for a bit?”

“Not at all, Ms. Willow.” He responded with a great deal of courtesy, patting a vacant spot next to him.

Willow took a few hesitant steps towards him and sat down on the ground cross-legged. After taking a moment to adjust the wrinkles out of her skirt, she briefly gazed at his eyes before shifting her attention to the pit.

“What’re you up to?” She questioned with a genuine curiosity to her voice, carefully scrutinizing the contents of the fire – the massive stacks of logs and various scientific tools – rather than the fire itself.

“Performing something of an experiment. Right now, I’m trying to determine if there are any unique properties to the fires in this realm.”

“An experiment, you say?” She reiterated. Wilson nodded once.

“Well aren’t you a scientist.” She playfully teased, gently nudging him in the side.

“I have a Doctorate’s Degree.” He stated simply while prodding at the fire with a stick.

“Oh,” Willow sheepishly turned back to the fire without Wilson’s notice; but after a moment she turned the entirety of her body towards him, having fully processed his statement and an idea along with it.

“What kind of Science are you into?” Willow politely inquired. Wilson stopped poking at the fire and pondered on her inquiry for several seconds before shifting his torso to face her directly.

“My interests has never been confined to that of any particular science.” Willow seemed slightly discontent with the ambiguity of his response, slightly furrowing her brows and pouting her lips when Wilson returned his attention to his instruments.

“If you don’t want to tell me, you could’ve just said so.”

“Please, it’s not as if I have anything to hide from you. There’s simply a lot of sciences that I lack much of an interest for. ”

“Okay, then. Are there any sciences that you’re actually good at?” She asked with a raised brow and a considerable lack of consideration in her tone, completely unaware of the chord she had just struck.

“I have something of an affinity for pyrotechnics.” He casually responded with a hardened glance.

“Pyrotechnics?” She repeated with a hint of interest.

“Of course. My experiments often have a tendency to explode whenever I’m interrupted by other people.” He callously retorted before turning back to the fire and continuing to devote the entirety of his attention to his experiment. “So if you don’t mind? If you’ve just come here to distract me, please leave me be as I have many experiments to run.” Wilson commanded while waving at her to leave.

“You’re not very popular, are you?” Willow muttered in frustration while picking herself up.

“It only took you this long to figure that out? Congratulations.” Willow was prepared to march off, but now she had been challenged and refused to back down without offering her own retort.

“Y’know, for a self-proclaimed Gentleman you sure do enjoy acting like an ass.”

Wilson unceremoniously got to his feet and then performed a small bow before Willow. “Sincerest apologies, Milady.” He drawled with an accent of fake royalty.

“Ten years without any social contact does that to a person. Of course, it isn’t hard to forget what social etiquette is with the likes of you around.” He sneered. Willow, seemingly fed up with Wilson’s disrespect, delivered a swift kick to his ribs and sent him barreling to the ground.

“AGH! What kind of woman are you!?” He audibly grunted.

“A woman who’s fed up with your baloney, your Highness.” Willow mocked while doing a curtsey.

“You have got to be the least mature person I’ve met my whole entire life!”

“Hey, I literally just asked you if it was alright to sit next to you before you started acting all crabby with me! Do you have amnesia, or are you that plain stupid?”

“Rrgh. Why would you come all this way if it’s just to assault me? Have you no decency, you low-class, arrogant, psychotic monster!” He growled at her.

“Maybe. Or maybe I wanted to get help from you because you seemed like a smart, decent guy only to realize that I can’t even have a single conversation with you without getting pushed away!” She shouted at him. It was a fortunate thing the other group members were out scavenging for food or else they would’ve had to witness the entire scene.

“But it seems I had you figured out all wrong.” She choked.

Slowly rising up from off the ground, Wilson realized that Willow’s eyes were misty and on the verge of tears – as were his, for some reason, and it wasn’t due to the pain of Willow’s admittedly solid kick…The stinging sensation continued to intensify, and he could not ascertain the source until he observed Willow’s expression change to a blank one and traced it back to the campfire right behind him.

The flames were spontaneously increasing in intensity before erupting into an inferno that consumed the pit entirely and everything else within the surrounding area; the wood being reduced to ashes and the stone became charred and blackened – the resulting embers assaulting all of the senses and threatening to choke any fool who dared remain behind. Wilson, of course, being one such fool as he instinctively remembered that he was about to lose tools that he had spent a tremendous amount of effort gathering resources for.

“My texts!” He exclaimed while diving into edge of the flames. Horrified by Wilson’s headstrongness, Willow threw herself into the fray attempted to restrain Wilson from burning himself any further than he currently was.

“Hey, what the Hell do you think you’re doing, you dumbass!?” She barked, wrapping both her arms around his torso.

“Saving my—DAMMIT!” Wilson recoiled violently after a stray spark flew near his eye.

“Saving my work! I can’t afford to lose those field notes, not when they mean a chance for our escape!” He cried trying to resist Willow’s strength – which he was far too cowardly to admit was equal to his own.

“Then stay down!” She ordered as she pinned him to the ground.

Never mind, perhaps her strength was greater than his.

“Miss, wait—!” But before his objections could go headed, she effortlessly dove into the fire– completely unaffected it, if not only slightly bothered and irritated. Wilson could only stare wide-eyed as he watched her reach for the various pages and apparatuses that were engulfed in flames or well on its way of becoming so, and observe all the objects becoming extinguished by her very touch.

When everything salvageable was gathered, Willow ended her fiery ballet and stepped out of the fire. Closing her eyes, she took a series of deep breaths before opening her eyes once more and extending one of her arms in the direction of the campfire. Holding up her hand with the authority of a conductor leading an orchestra, she lowered her arm and commanded the flames to die down until there was nothing left but smoldering remains.

Without a word, she handed the materials back to Wilson and sat back down on the ground next to him.

She looked down at her skit and began fidgeting with her thumbs, her shoulders incredibly tense and her face appearing extremely weary and forlorn. Within the peripherals of his vision, Wilson saw sparks appear and dissipate within the fireplace as Willow continued to make motions, and it was at that moment Wilson understood what the problem was with Willow.

“You’re a Pyromaniac.” He whispered with complete confidence. Willow looked up at him anxiously, unsure what thoughts transpired through his mind now that her true nature was revealed.

“Remarkable!” He beamed with a wide grin that actually appeared amazed— admiring, even.

“What’s remarkable?” She murmured, still uncertain if Wilson was about to turn on her.

“Oh— I apologize, I didn’t mean your unfortunate condition, but rather the fact that you could keep it a secret for so long, especially in an environment so conducive to your tendencies!” He remarked.

“The amount of self-restraint you exercise is beyond comprehension – I can’t imagine how tiring it must be, yet you’ve endured it entirely every single day we’ve been acquainted.” He finished rambling with a chuckle. Any doubt that resided in Willow’s mind were quickly cast aside – it was evident to her that Wilson understood the things she was going through and was actually supportive of her efforts.

And though it seemed he briefly looked askance when looking back at her face, he began to apologize for his behavior in their interaction leading up to the literal and figurative eruption.

“Miss, I’m…I’m so incredibly sorry for acting the way I did.” He began apologizing with utmost sincerity.

“No man worth his salt should ever treat someone in such a manner, especially a person that goes through such efforts as to accompany him.”

“Don’t stress about it, Mr. Higgsbury. It was kinda brazen of me to waltz on up to you expecting you’d have a solution to whatever problem I had.” She assured him.

“Then we can agree we were both at fault. But even then, you came to me wanting help with your Pyromania, didn’t you?” Willow shook her head up and down.

“I appreciate the trust, but how did you expect for me to help?” He pleaded to know.

“Before, I wasn’t really all too sure. I thought you might’ve had some ties with Maxwell, or whoever the Hell else is the current ruler, or something…but now it seems to me like you actually know about my condition. Not too many people know about Pyromania and its signs, even the most prestigious of the so-called scientists of our time.” Wilson held his breath for a moment, and after considering Willow had just revealed her ability to him, he thought he should have the courtesy of doing the same.

“…Maxwell offered me forbidden knowledge under the condition that I’d do him a single favor. And so, in exchange for unwittingly building the door that was used to bring me to this realm, I was granted the ability to see distant things in time and in space. It still hurts my head to think about it sometimes, but I do know about these sorts of things.”

“Damn.” Willow gasped, awestruck at how unique Wilson’s own condition was, and at something of an understanding on why he always seems so grumpy. He must suffer such terrible migraines.

“I won’t make you describe in full detail the offer he made you, but could you at least tell me if he offered a cure to your ailment?”

“I didn’t want a cure. I wanted an escape, and he promised me a place where I could set the world on fire.” Willow lamentedly explained.

“And then he gave you the ability to control fire?” He asked in shock.

“Believe it or not, I could do this sort of stuff back at home, too— ” Wilson’s mouth went slack at the implication there were humans back on earth who were capable of such feats. But considering how Maxwell once had access to darker beings, it shouldn’t have surprised him so much.

“—just not like this, not to this extent. Mr. Higgsbury, I’m frightened of myself, of how much of an actual monster I’m starting to become here.” Tears were beginning to form around the edges of her eyes.

The fire pit began smoking.

“Hey, don’t call yourself a monster.” Wilson crawled forward and embraced Willow in a hug. He was unsure if doing so was the right call, especially after lacking physical human contact for almost a decade; but just as he began to slip away, she met him with an even firmer hug that didn’t suggest she would release him soon. She buried his head into his shoulder, trembling ever so slightly, and he began to give her reassuring pats on the back as he gave her the chance to collect herself.

“Miss Willow, even with my knowledge of the future and the various ways I can treat your condition, I’m not sure I could alleviate you of it.” He woefully admitted. Her arms wrapped around him righter.

“But you have my word—” He began, gently pushing her away so that his eyes could meet with hers. Even through redness of irritation and blurriness of tears, her eyes still managed to shine with a spark of hope.

“I will do my best to help you control it. That much, I can do.”

A smile grew across her face upon hearing his words, and as tears began to flow she promptly brushed them aside to no avail. Wilson pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket and offered it to her without hesitation; Willow took the cloth and cleared off her face. Shortly after, there was no evidence of her distress save for the occasional sniffle, and she returned the handkerchief with no argument. Wilson gave her a final reassuring smile which she met with equal vigor, but an idea lingering in the back of her mind drove her to ask Wilson a question.

“Hey, Mr. Higgsbury?” She asked.

“Yes, Miss Willow?” He responded.

“You can stop calling me Miss, first off.” She suggested to him with yet another light jab at his ribs.

“And second, I want you to hold up your hand, like this.” She held up a three-finger salute.

“Okay, like that. Now what?” He questioned nonchalantly, holding up the same salute.

“I want you to repeat what you said. On you honor.”

“What?” Wilson laughed in response, unsure what to think of that request.

“I know, I know – just do it, alright? Pretty please?” She added while batting her eyelashes.

“And here I was mistaking you for a monster.” Wilson huffed while rolling his eyes.

“Okay, here it goes: I, Wilson P. Higgsbury, do solemnly swear that I will use the full extent of my knowledge and abilities to help you with your condition. On my honor.”

“And I, Willow T. Sayre, do solemnly swear to use my powers for good, and to help Mr. Higgsbury in his endeavor to free all the survivors from our personal Hell. Scout’s honor.”

“Okay, there is no way that’s your real last name or that you’re a scout.”

“Oh, and you really expect me to believe that the President’s surname is your real name?”

“That’s what it says on my birth certificate.”

“Heh, I have no idea where mine went. I am totally a scout though, earned all my patches.”

“I’ll have to hold you up to that.” Wilson challenged as he stood up offered Willow a hand.

“I guess you will.” Willow accepted Wilson’s hand—but didn’t let go when she was standing upright. Wilson cast her a confused look, upon which she immediately let go and pretended as if nothing had happened.

“I’m gonna go check up on the rest of our group and see how their efforts are going. Keep that fire of yours under control, alright Wilson?”

Wilson opened his mouth as if he was going to correct her, but after finally catching on to the game she was playing, he kept silent and smiled to himself thinking of all the possibilities for their relationship.

And finally, the fire pit extinguished.


End file.
